Promises
by neela
Summary: He was never a fan of promises...


**_Fandom: _**_Murder Call (Tessa Vance books)  
**Author:** neela_  
**_Rating: _**_PG (K+)_  
**_Warning: _**_Angst_  
**_Summary: _**_He was never a fan of promises...  
_

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**Promises**

Steve wasn't a fan of promises. Promises were meant to be kept, no matter what.

If you said you would show up at 7 pm for the date, you did, even if you were run down by a car or the florist had to close early because of sickness.

If you promised to water the plants at your friend's place while he or she was away, no excuse of watching the important sport finals would be worthwhile if all the plants died of dehydration.

All in all, he had about three promises he had spoken and then failed to uphold. The first was to Sheila, his ex-wife. He had sworn to stand by her side, in sickness and health until death did them part. But that had failed.

No mention that it had been her to demand the divorce, which technically did not put all the blame on him, but it _had_ been his profession who caused her to make that decision.

The second promise had been to his parents, more specifically his father. He loved his father, truly he did, so when things were going rough on the farm, Steve had promised to watch over them. But he had lost the farm to the bank, suffering a second loss in his life in just under a year, and felt now he had failed his family deeply.

Afterwards, those two failed attempts had taken part in forming the man he was. Cold, logical, never rushing ahead without good caution. He wanted to see the outcome before throwing himself into the centre of the mess, to ensure there would be survival waiting at the other end. No more failed attempts, he was not sure his heart could deal with it. Therefore, he had never made an important promise like those previous before.

Until she showed up and turned his life upside-down, forcing light upon his weary soul. Steve was not a man for personal insight, not wanting to dwell on all the dark and murky emotions lingering within his persona, but just being around her bubbling spirit seemed to draw him out of old habits and into new ones. It terrified him, though he never showed it. He would never show his weaknesses again, secretly afraid to be hurt. Although he _did_ promise to himself that he would protect this spirit, this _life_ that so often chose to interact with him for reasons he could not understand, but did not voice out loud.

Alas, he had once more failed completely, breaking the saying of "all good things are three" to dust.

"Don't…look like that."

The faint voice drew him out of his drunken-like melancholy, still clinging beautifully to his ears, even at the end. Tessa's big, blue eyes looked up to meet his film-covered ones as he grasped her close to lifeless hand in his.

He really believed those eyes were the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. Sparkling with such life, such enthusiasm, that it affected him and his usual stoic mood, only now they were dimmed of their usual energy and spirit. They were instead filled with weary sadness, albeit she tried to smile to him.

For his sake—_his_ sake—she was trying to put on a brave front, to not show that she was scared, like she always tried to do. In just the space of six months, the damn woman had gotten to know him too well. But the same could be said for him. Past the bravery, he saw the doubt. Ambulance had been called for, but it was clear she did not think it would be there in time.

"I've told you…before," her voice was close to a whisper, breathing the words past her lips as life seeped out of her wounds, "Sad looks don't suit you." He wanted to marvel at the way she took this, treating him with such kindness and unselfishness like she did not have three gun shot wounds in her abdomen and chest.

For the first time in many years, his heart visibly constricted.

A lithe hand, the one not currently clasped tightly by his, reached up slowly to stroke his cheek. The touch was feathery light, nearly a whisper of wind as it caressed and flying leaf. It only spoke volumes of the event that was sneaking nearer and nearer by the slow, agonizing seconds. Darkness. Hollowness.

Steve could not remember ever crying since he had been a child, not even when his Sheila left him or his grandparents died. He was such a tough shell, keeping his emotions at bay while walking through the waist-high mud he faced every day. That was his habit. But when wetness shone on Tessa's pale fingertips, he realised they had escaped the safety of his eyes, trailing down his chin bone and dripping down onto her chest. Even after all the shields he had erected around himself, she still managed to effortlessly pass through them as though they were only waterfalls leading into the hidden labyrinth of caves.

And they weren't even dating.

"Just hold on, Tess," Steve said, forcing his voice to sound more sure than he truly felt, than he had ever felt, in fact. "The ambulance can't be far away."

In fact, he was straining his ears and hoping the sirens would chime any dreadful moment. This gruesome wait was killing him, much less literally killing her, and there was nothing he could do about it, no mystical powers he could wield to make everything better. He noticed the blood was seeping through the jacket—his jacket—that he had pushed against her wounds to stop it flowing. It was a dark jacket. The fact he could see the blood was a testament as to how much she was losing.

"Steve."

"Just keep it up, okay?" He avoided looking into her eyes, busying himself with laying pressure on the jacket above her wounds.

"Steve…"

Tessa's voice bordered on less than a whisper, drawing him back to face her. How could he not, when the life he had come to cherish so much these last few months was diminishing right underneath his calloused hands? It would be like denying the fish free reign in the waters, your own selfish stomach growling for satisfaction. He did not want satisfaction that way, he was not hungry for her lack of air. He wanted only her life spirit, her will to live.

Her eyes were half-closed, growing more and more heavy as the minutes ticked by. Steve almost forcibly willed them to stay open, to not let go. They locked beneath her lids, blue meeting dark in a swirl of emotions.

"I'm sorry…"

His head perked up, eyebrows furrowing in question as he noticed her body was slacking more in his grasp. No… "Tess, just…" He did not know what he wanted to say, what to reply to a heartfelt apology which he was not even sure belonged to him. What could she be sorry about?

It was he who was sorry.

Thousands times sorry, for being an emotionless jerk, for not coming clean with everything when he had seen her eyes twinkle in his direction, for not replying to her forthcomings on the occasions she displayed them, for pushing her away. But most of all, for breaking his promise, even if it had not been spoken directly to her. He failed to protect her, to save the bubbling life affecting all those lifeless souls around her who gained their freedom to live by her presence alone.

"I should've…" She continued as if he had never interrupted her, portraying the rare bout of selfishness he had rarely seen before. "I should've told you."

"Tess, it's okay, don't say anymore, save your strength."

But still she ignored him, her lids closing just a little bit more. "I shouldn't have rushed in…without precautions. I just wanted…" Her breathing was more erratic, the silence engulfing them showed no sign of being broken by sirens any minute. Steve's heart constricted again, more tears rolling off his face, mingling with the blood. "…I just wanted to tell you…"

"Shh, don't speak—"

"…I love you."

His heart stopped beating.

It had never truly been a scenario he had imagined himself, hearing the statement slip past those delicate lips of hers. Even his tears stopped for a second, as if the tap had been turned off or blocked.

Then his heart constricted and it all set loose again, his grip on her arms tightening painfully. Her lids opened by a fraction, a tired smile splayed across her lips as her features softened from the strain of keeping herself conscious.

"I told you," she said, still smiling, her hand stroking across his cheek again, interrupting the flow of anguish. "That look doesn't suit you…" And then her eyes drifted close.

Like the end of an anticlimax, Steve's throat let loose a hollow sound, torn between a cry and a sob. He clutched her body to him, his chest heaving for breath as the sobs rippled throughout his muscles.

"No, no, no… Tessa, don't…don't…" He looked down at her through the film of tears, on the peaceful features on her beautiful, angelic face. "You can't die…I love you…I love you… Don't…No…"

Silence was broken by the chimes of sirens, but he did not hear them. His mind was only focused on one thing: He had failed again.

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**Owari  
**

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_Never really enjoyed writing sad fics, but sometimes the plot bunny can't help itself and my muse just begs me to write down anything it comes up with. So...as a slave to the Evil-Plot-Bunnies-of-Hell this fic was sprung. Probably one of the few angsty ones I'll ever write. I hope. _

_Please review if you've actually taken the time to read it!__  
_


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